Mirrors
by Ice Queen1
Summary: Kay Daniels goes to see Jonathan Black in prison to discuss his brother's penchant for landing himself in trouble. Mentions of past child neglect, and injuries incurred performing magic tricks. When Cameron really lands himself in trouble, it's Jonathan to the rescue like always.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Not mine. I looooove Cameron and Jonathan Black and the possibilities of whump in their past. Especially since Cameron keeps mentioning serious injuries, and his team remind him frequently how many times stunts have gone wrong. So I decided to play with a head canon that Jonathan is the master mind because Cameron was adamant that he take all the risks on stage. And thus - this was born. Let me know what you think!

* * *

Kay Daniels wasn't sure what she was expecting when she met Jonathan Black. She knew he was identical, physically, anyway, to Cameron. She'd seen the news when he'd been arrested, the aftermath of the trial with Cameron vehemently protesting that his brother was innocent. She'd seen them standing next to one another, and the side by side profiles the media ran for the days after Jonathan's existence was revealed. At the time, they looked absolutely identical in every way – their hair, their clothes, the clean shaven face.

It wasn't until she met him face to face in the visitation room of the prison that she knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, she would _always_ be able to tell them apart.

It wasn't how they looked that set them apart – unless you looked at their eyes. It wasn't that Cameron wasn't smart – he was. He was a genius at what he did. But he was also one of the most genuinely happy people she'd ever met. Like a duck with water, troubles just seemed to roll off of him. Even when recounting what she considered a less than ideal childhood, he managed to put a silver lining spin on it. Sure, he was forced to lead half a life. But he got to do it in really cool places, doing really cool things. And yeah, sure, maybe the magic thing was mostly because he wanted to please his father, but he seemed to like it enough to keep doing it, long after they split from their dad.

If anyone could described as cinnamon roll of a human being, it was Cameron Black.

Jonathan, on the other hand, was like a razor. His gaze was cold, clinical, calculating, and she felt like she was under a microscope the second the guard opened the door. It occurred to her, right then and there, that it wasn't the bars that kept him behind the prison walls.

It was because he chose to be there.

Cameron was a better negotiator than she thought, if he could convince his brother to stay in a prison that was obviously a formality.

And it showed the amount of faith Jonathan must have in him.

"You must be Kay," Jonathan said, not standing from where he reclined back in his seat on the opposite side of the table.

She noticed his gaze flicker to the door when the guard closed it behind her, and narrow when he realized she was alone.

"Where's Cameron?" he asked. It was too polite to be a demand, but she could practically feel the tension in that simple question. She could see the minute change in expression as he ran through the possibilities of why she would be here, and why Cameron wouldn't.

She could tell that none of the scenarios were pleasant.

Well, that explains a little of what she wanted to know.

"Cameron's fine," she said, offering what she hoped was a friendly smile. It'd won Cameron over easily enough.

Not Jonathan.

"Your definition of fine, or _his_?"

Aaaand that answered another question.

"So he's always been like that?" she asked, gesturing to the opposing chair. When he relented with a slight jerk of his chin, she took a seat.

"Like what?"

She almost smiled. Both brothers were adept at dodging answers, but the difference was more telling about their personalities than anything else. Cameron tended to give vague answers and immediately switch subjects. Jonathan tested to see what you knew before he offered up any knowledge of his own.

"Reckless. Stupid. A walking testament to denial punchlines," she offered.

Jonathan snorted. "Sounds like him. Where is he?"

Kay sighed. "At Lower Manhattan hospital."

Before Jonathan could demand explanation, she continued on.

"He was helping us with a case. It required a bit of deception, and Cameron volunteered. Things went a little, uh, _off script_ ," she said.

Jonathan sighed. "Of course they did."

"He wasn't entirely clear on _how_ part of an engine fell on his foot, but the good news is that only one bone broke. Mostly soft tissue damage, and he's going to be on crutches for a few weeks until the swelling goes down, but he should be fine. But he was insistent that someone come tell you so you didn't think he'd bailed on your visitation today."

Soft tissue damage was a bit of an understatement. She'd never seen something bruise that quickly – as soon as the EMS's arrived and pulled off Cameron's shoe and sock to see the damage, it was already darkening purple and blue. A deep, dark vein of red like a starburst on his skin was like a cartoon illustration of where the metal hit him.

And of course, Cameron promptly tried to wiggle his toes, which resulted in an aborted yelp of pain and a hasty smile of 'it's fine!' that no one believed.

"He said it wasn't broken before he even made it to the hospital," Kay said.

"Well, Cam would be the expert on broken bones," Jonathan grumbled, and Kay could see him mouthing some rather colorful words under his breath.

It was the perfect opening.

"Yeah," she said, scooting closer to the edge of the table and resting her clasped hands on the steel top. "About that. He's mentioned several pretty serious hospital stays, pretty casually too."

Jonathan said nothing. His posture remained defensive.

"Was it all just stunts gone wrong?" she asked.

Jonathan scoffed, a wry half grin twisting his lips in a scornful sneer. "You mean was any of it from Dad?"

Kay didn't answer, letting Jonathan find his own time. After several painfully long moments, Jonathan sighed, rubbing a hand over his short stubble.

"No," he said. "Dad never laid a hand on us. But magic is dangerous. Tricks go wrong. Safety wires snap. Torches malfunction. Knots slip. Buckles jam. And bones break."

"How old were you when you started performing on stage with him? With your father?"

Jonathan offered a non-committal shrug. "On stage? When we were…six, maybe? It wasn't that hard to perform the 'Disappearing Boy'. Cameron went behind one curtain, I came out from behind another. The audience cheered." He smirked. "Ta daaah."

"When did you two start doing the more advanced tricks?" Kay pressed.

"Why are you so interested on our childhood?" Jonathan asked. "It's history. What's it matter now?"

Kay sighed, struggling to put thoughts to words without sounding like she was trying to Mother Hen the two of them. "I've known Cameron for less than six months. In that time, he's been shot, thrown himself off a building trying to jump from one to another, been kidnapped and stuffed in a trunk, and almost blown up. He's the first to volunteer to go undercover, the first to go into a dangerous situation – never armed – and he just acts like…" the words escaped her, and she found herself floundering.

Jonathan had the barest hint of a smile, though. It wasn't happy. It wasn't sarcastic. It was…sad.

"If you're wondering if he's always been like that, the answer is yes. _Always_. And I doubt you're going to convince him to change now."

Kay waited to see if Jonathan would continue if the silence lapsed long enough.

Finally, after several moments, Jonathan shifted in his seat, uncrossing his arms and leaning forwards on the table in a direct mirroring of her own posture. "You need to know this about my brother. He will get himself killed making sure it isn't someone else who gets hurt. He has the self-preservation of a lemming. And if you keep _letting him_ take those kind of risks, he's going to _keep doing it_. I have spent my life trying to keep Cameron alive. My _whole_ life. Because Dad sure as hell didn't care about how dangerous the stunts were – whether it was him taking them _or_ his thirteen year old kid. Cameron has damn near broken every bone in his body more than twice. His MRI scans look like a fucking Christmas tree."

Jonathan was speaking low and fast now, between clenched teeth as he punctuated every point with a jab of his index finger to the table.

"I'm stuck in here now, and Dina may have the spine to stand up to Cameron when he's in one of his moods, but Gunter and Jordan definitely _do not_ , so _someone_ needs to keep an eye on my brother. Because if he dies trying to help _you_?" Jonathan met her gaze unblinking, blue eyes piercingly boring into hers. "No prison on this Earth will hold me."

And she knew he wasn't exaggerating. He was stating facts, as confidently as someone stated the sky was blue, the grass was green, and the sun set in the west.

"That's what I'm trying to do," she said softly. "But I don't know how."

Jonathan studied her for a moment with those electric blue eyes – so cold compared to Cameron's. "You'll have to talk to the Team. Dina, Jordan, Gunter. Especially Dina. If he's using tricks to help you, it means they're designing them. Make sure they understand that no matter what my brother says – _minimum risk_. He's not a cop. He owes you nothing. Especially not his life. _Especially_ when it's not his to give."

It made her think of a line from one of her favorite TV shows. _Your life is not your own, so keep your hands off of it_.

"Did he volunteer to be the one on stage?" she asked quietly. "When you were kids?"

Jonathan's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment she thought she'd overstepped her bounds.

"Yeah. Yeah, he did. He was always the mediator. Always trying to keep the peace. Dad and I never stopped fighting long enough to get through an act, even in practice. And Cam, _Cam_ was so eager to stop the arguing he would do whatever stupid thing Dad told him to. He never let us swap out. And it wasn't because he wanted the glory, or he wanted to be in the spotlight, it was because he wanted it to be him that died if something went wrong. There's nothing dangerous about waiting behind a curtain, or underneath a door, or in a cabinet. Nothing ever happened to me. But you know what was worse than watching my brother almost get killed because of our _father's_ dream? I couldn't go see him in the hospital. I couldn't go to him on stage if it happened during a performance. I had to hide when the EMS people showed up. Even when I argued I could wear a disguise, Dad refused to take the chance that someone would notice it."

Jonathan took a steadying breath, flexing his fingers that Kay noticed had gone white knuckled while he spoke.

"In short, Agent Kay Daniels, if I'm going to be okay with my brother out there, playing cops and robbers in the hopes that you and the FBI come up with something to help _me_ , then you need to convince me that you're keeping an eye on him. And from what you've told me, that doesn't sound like it's the case."

Kay drummed her fingers against the table top in rapid succession. "I know. I know, I know, and I haven't had much luck trying to keep him out of the line of fire. Even when I try. But Jonathan, your brother is very good at what he does. He's saving lives. He's helping people, and I think he finds a purpose to it. Like maybe everything hasn't been just about performing on stage if he can help people – _really_ help them – in real life."

Jonathan's gaze hardened, and Kay could swear she felt the temperature drop a few degrees.

"I don't _care_ about _their lives_. I care about _his_. I care about _mine_. And more importantly, while he's distracted with you, it means he's not worrying about the Mystery Woman. And the two of you seem to have forgotten something pretty damn important – _I wasn't the target_. Which means _he_ was, and still _is_ until you find that woman. You _have_ to be on guard with him, because Cam won't. All he cares about is getting me out of prison. And if this is where they intended to put him – out of the way? Then what are they willing to do to get him out of the way _now_?"

Kay didn't have an answer.

* * *

So. Thoughts? Opinions? Suggestions? I wrote this really quickly after tonight's episode, and it's like 2AM, so it may make less sense on paper than it does in my head, but I'm too excited _not_ to post it now. Read and review! If interested, come find me on tumblr at disappearinginq


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I should never say "this is a one shot" because it always comes back to bite me, and it winds up being like 10 or more chapters. I blame it on this fandom being so awesome and encouraging. And of course, the epic angst factor of this show that promised me fun magic tricks and instead opened a can of Daddy Issues and Whump. Spoiler's for 1x07, "Sacrifice 99 to Fool One".

* * *

" _NO, CAM_!" Jonathan shouted, pounding on the door as his brother pulled off the mask, an apologetic smile on his face as the air continued to be sucked out of the room with high powered fans.

 _Don't you **dare** smile at this_…

" _Cameron!_ "

His brother's smile faded, and through the nuke proof glass he could see the way he started to gasp for air that wasn't there, stumbling slightly before falling backwards, eyes rolling back and collapsing on the floor less than three feet away, but with an ocean between them.

" _CAMERON! CAM! **CAM!**_ "

If Kay had just let him shoot the bitch in the first place, they wouldn't be here. _Cameron_ wouldn't be here, because no matter what he told Kay, _yes_ , he knew what he was thinking when he aimed at the Mystery Woman as she fled into the harbor.

He was thinking he can't be tried for the same murder twice.

He was thinking that without their boss, whatever operation she was running would fall into controlled chaos – she was unlikely the type to share info.

He was thinking that _Cameron Black, Master of Deception_ , would have more than enough opportunity to escape if the Mystery Woman wasn't around to enforce whatever threat she held over him that kept him there.

He lied because if he'd told her all that – it would sound suspiciously like premeditated murder.

 _Because it was_.

"Get the manager to use the override!" Jonathan demanded, whirling abruptly to the still unconscious guards.

One of them had to have a radio, or this would be the worst auction house security in the universe.

He dove for the closest one, yanking him over onto his back, already fumbling at the waist for the walkie.

His mind didn't blank in a panic, it did the opposite – a million different thoughts at a million miles an hour flashed through his head. _What was the standard radio channel for emergencies? Did it matter? Were the radios screwed with to as part of the Woman's plan? The vault wasn't designed for murder, it **had to be able to be shut off.** Was Cam going to die? The human brain could barely survive five minutes without oxygen, how much time had elapsed already_?

"RESET THE ALARM!" Jonathan shouted into the radio. " _NOW!"_

 _To turn off security systems, override code must be entered or an entire system reset_.

"Who the hell is this - ?" came the reply and before Jonathan's temper could get the best of him and he smashed the radio, Agent Daniels yanked it out of his hand.

"This is FBI Special Agent Kay Daniels, reset the alarm, _now_ , we need the vault door to open, one of our guys is still inside, and unless you want to be charged with the death of a federal agent, you'll do it _now_."

Jonathan staggered back to his feet, back to the door just as the alarm silenced, the blaring siren almost deafening in its absence.

 _Come on, comeon, **come on**_ ….

He could see through the window that the quick, rapid rise and fall of Cameron's chest had stopped. The door still hadn't unlocked, the air still hadn't been returned to the vault, and his brother was _dying less than three feet away from him and he could do **nothing**_.

Unbidden and unwanted memories of every time he'd ever had to stand behind the curtain when something had gone wrong on stage came flooding in.

His dad had to hire someone to stand next to him during shows, keeping him from bolting out of his hiding place when he would hear the gasps of horror from the other stage hands who knew _that wasn't part of the show_.

No one touched him now, but he felt hands restraining him all the same.

There was a click.

And Jonathan's hand was on the handle and wrenching it open before Kay could tell him they'd unlocked the door, yanking it open so fast he almost hit Dina in the face.

"Cam, don't do this to me, don't do this to me, don't you _dare_ …"

It wouldn't be the first time he'd done CPR on his unresponsive brother, but somehow, _right now_ , this was worse than all the times before.

He skidded to his knees beside his brother, whose lips were turning blue.

 _Clear airway, head tilt, chin liftpinchnosetworescuebreaths-_

" _Wake up_!"

He didn't care that he sounded borderline hysterical, because he _was_. If Cameron died, right here, right now, then he wasn't going back to prison.

He was going to become what everyone already thought he was.

A cold blooded murderer.

And without Agent Daniels threatening to shoot him in the back, he would have nothing stopping him.

And _every_ reason to pull the trigger.

 _Chest compressions_ , _tothetuneofstayingalive_ -

He felt one of Cam's ribs give way under the force of the compressions, but broken ribs were the least of his concerns.

" _GET UP, CAM. GET UP, GET UP, **GETUP**!"_

Just as he was about to do another round of rescue breaths, his brother jerked to life underneath his less than gentle hands, coughing and gasping and sucking in much needed air, his eyes flying open to reveal at least one of them had broken blood vessels as he rolled to the side, curling in on himself.

 _But he was alive_. _He was alive, **hewasalive**_ …

"Ow," Cameron rasped, one hand going to his ribs. "Did you have to do it so hard?"

And with that, Jonathan grabbed him by his jacket and yanked him upright, unmindful of the broken rib he'd just caused because he needed his brother more than he needed to be gentle.

Cameron felt like he couldn't breathe again under the fierce embrace of Jonathan, and he still hadn't stopped coughing, which was more painful than the hug, but he didn't let go. He was dimly aware of the fact that the last thing he'd seen before passing out was his brother's terrified face as he pounded on the glass. He'd wanted to apologize, for not being able to get Johnny out of jail. For the way they grew up, each only having half a life. For even mentioning his name to the police when he'd been shown the damning evidence of the accident.

All he could offer was an apologetic smile, because he wouldn't be able to say any of that. And because while he was sorry for a lot of things, being the one on the wrong side of the door wasn't one of them.

And now, unexpectedly alive and for the first time in over a year, he and Johnny were on the outside, and the first thought he had was to grab his brother and run without looking back.

As soon as he had the energy to stand.

He could feel his brother shaking underneath his hands, even as he tried to tell him that he was _fine_ , and he was _okay_.

"Hey, I'm fine, Johnny," he promised, rubbing his brother's back and tried not to think about how bad it must've been this time. Jonathan hadn't had a bad break down for years, since the time he'd almost drowned in a botched Houdini rendition. "I'm okay."

Johnny's hands dug painfully into his back in warning. _No, you aren't_.

"Cameron, – " Kay's voice broke in, and Cameron looked up to see the entirety of the team standing just outside the door. Dina looked like she'd been in the middle of crying, and Jordan looked a whiter shade of pale, and he didn't miss the murderous look on Gunter's face.

Huh. Maybe it had been that bad…

When Kay moved to take a step into the vault, Cameron put up his hand in warning.

 _Give us a minute…please_?

Kay looked like she wanted to argue, but she pressed her lips into a thin line, taking a step back.

 _Thank you_ , he mouthed.

Johnny didn't need an audience, and frankly, neither did he. But at least he could tune out the others, whereas Johnny couldn't. Never could, really. It was part of the reason why their dad insisted Cameron be the one on stage.

Johnny was smart. Brilliant. Almost terrifyingly so. But the same thing that allowed him to make leaps and jumps in logic, to see patterns in chaos and find order where there was none, drove him to easy distraction. Too many lights, too many people, too many moving parts and things that could go wrong, did go wrong, _would_ go wrong, every conversation in earshot worming their way into his focus until it became just _noise_.

He'd been misdiagnosed for years with ADHD or being somewhere on the spectrum. Traveling the world made it hard to get the same doctor to see him, and with Sebastian Black's paranoia that someone would realize that Jonathan _wasn't_ Cameron, facts may have been omitted, and certain tests refused. It wasn't until Gunter showed up that they had a proper name for _it_. Less of a condition, more of a personality quirk, Gunter called it Low Latent Inhibition.

And it had the habit of making Johnny's life a living hell in already bad situations.

" _You're okay_ ," he whispered in his brother's ear.

Johnny's head pressed closer to his and he could feel his brother fist his fingers in his jack as he clutched him tighter.

"Stop thinking," he said, keeping his voice low and hopefully soothing. The bout of coughing had made it raspy, and it hurt to talk, but he didn't care. "You're right here, _I'm right here_ , and _we're fine_."

Jonathan didn't say a word, and Cameron could feel him holding his breath, hitching slightly every time he tried to let it out slowly as he tried to keep his composure. A lifetime of bottling everything in was a hard habit to break.

Cameron looked up again, finding Dina in the crowd and meeting her gaze. He gave a subtle jerk of his chin, and she immediately understood.

Quietly, she tapped Mike's arm and whispered in his ear, and Cameron saw him nod. In less than two minutes, they'd backed the rest of the group away far enough they were out of sight, just around the corner.

"Johnny," he said, a little louder than he had been. "Look at me."

Jonathan didn't move. Cameron gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"Come on, Johnny. Deep breaths and look at me."

 _Now_ was what Cameron needed his brother to focus on. Not the infinite _what ifs_ that he could imagine just as easily as he saw the reality. He cautiously knocked his head against his brother's, to shake him out of his spiraling thoughts.

"Jonathan."

" _What if I wasn't here_?" Jonathan suddenly blurted out, head jerking up to finally meet his brother's gaze. "What if the door didn't open? What if it had been too long, what if it didn't work, what if –" and suddenly he wasn't trying to hold his breath, he was trying to _catch_ his breath as his chest heaved even as his throat constricted in the familiar early signs of a panic attack. Somehow, Johnny's always seemed worse. Maybe because Jonathan was always so cool and collected and reserved, that the very idea that his body would betray him was something he thought he should be able to avoid. And then the more he tried to make himself stop, the worse it got, because all those _what ifs_ were like a cascade effect.

"Hey, hey, hey, no, don't do that Johnny, that's not what happened, alright?" Cameron soothed, trying to get his brother to focus. "I'm fine. _We're fine_."

"But…you… _weren't_ ," Jonathan gasped. "You _weren't_ and it was worse because this time I didn't have to hide and I _still_ couldn't get to you."

Cameron imagined if the roles were reversed. If he was the one on the outside watching his brother die and unable to help.

He doubted he even would've had enough thought to remember how CPR went. Or that vaults weren't meant to be coffins, and as long as someone reset the codes, it would default the system and open the door.

"Well, when you say it like that…" Cameron made a half attempt at humor, and if anything, it just made Jonathan more upset instead of less.

"Why is it _so fucking hard_ for you to care about yourself even _half_ as much as you care about _anyone_ else?"

Cameron shrugged, offering a smile to hide the grimace as his broken ribs shifted with the movement. "Because," he said, "I have _you_ to do it."

* * *

Author's Note: I struggled a bit at the end. There were like three alternate versions, but I think I like this one the best. I was discussing with heyystiles on Tumblr that I think Jonathan has something called LLI/Low Latent Inhibition (which is a really interesting but really frustrating way to experience the world). If you want to know more about it: lowlatentinhibition dot org. I reeally want this episode to be an excuse not to send Jonathan back to prison, because I want to see them as a human cinnamon roll and a Sherlock Holmes. Read and review if you like! They keep me motivated!


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I had to get this up before this week's episode, which I am SO EXCITED FOR, YOU DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND. But, just in case they don't manage to keep Jonathan out of jail, this is how I would make it play out if it was me. Cameron AND Jonathan whump time! Onwards!

* * *

Kay made him go to the hospital.

Cameron wasn't entirely sure why, because he knew they weren't going to do anything for one broken rib other than _maybe_ wrap it, hand him some over the counter pain med and tell him to take it easy for the next few weeks. No lifting more than ten pounds, no boxing matches, no practicing escaping from straitjackets, avoid stairs when possible…and now that he worked with the FBI, probably 'no cases' were going to be added to the already too long list.

It actually wasn't Kay that convinced him. It was the death glare Johnny gave him when he said he didn't need to go.

Right before jabbing a thumb into what was sure to be spectacular bruising where he'd put his hands for CPR, making Cameron hiss and double over.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan said, putting a mocking hand up to his ear. "What was that?"

"You are such a dick sometimes," Cameron groaned between clenched teeth, trying not to hunch over as the familiar jab of pain radiated outward.

"I thought you were fine?" Jonathan asked sweetly. "Are you trying to tell me….you _lied_ to me? Your own brother? _Who has patched up more of you than Buffalo Bill did with his skin suit_?"

Cameron made a face. "Ew. That is a _terrible_ analogy. You do you always have to make it creepy?"

Jonathan shrugged, leaning back on his hands where he sat on the floor across from him, waiting for the EMS team that Dina called. "Because it makes sure that I have your attention and you were listening. That's what you get for being squeamish about weird things."

Cameron had almost forgotten what it was like to snipe back and forth with Johnny. His twisted sense of humor that was darker than ink sometimes, but never failed to make Cameron laugh. He'd _missed_ it. He'd missed _Jonathan._ He'd tried not to think about how much Kay was nothing like Jonathan, or that despite their arguing, Gunter and Jordan were poor substitutes for hashing it out over an illusion with Johnny over cold pizza and warm beer and their own language that no one else understood.

Twenty minute meetings in a monitored waiting area once a week (because that was all they allowed them) wasn't the same. Not when every time he saw Johnny, he looked a little sharper. A little more exhausted. A little more bleak.

And a lot more angry.

When the ambulance had arrived, Cameron refused to go unless Johnny came with him. In the ambulance. Stayed in the ER. Waited until they all got a chance to debrief about what had happened since he'd disappeared from the alley way.

And if Cameron had anything to say about it, until they caught the Mystery Woman.

At first, Kay refused, and Cameron saw the look she shot Jonathan. Somewhere between distrust and caution, it occurred to Cameron she didn't trust his brother. Why, was a little beyond him. It wasn't like once released, Johnny _couldn't_ disappear the second he wanted to. The fact that he didn't should've been all the assurance Kay needed to know that Jonathan wasn't a flight risk. And why she kept looking at him like she half expected him to be the Evil Twin was another mystery.

Involuntary manslaughter, even if Johnny _had_ done it, wasn't exactly the worst crime they'd witnessed people commit, and Kay had looked at them with less suspicion than she looked at Johnny. And Johnny had been nothing but an upstanding prisoner, even if it killed him a little bit to bite his tongue about the injustice of having to trade one prison for another.

When Cameron had braced his feet against the vault door as the EMT's tried to lead him out, he was perfectly aware he sounded like a truculent child.

Did he care?

Nope.

Johnny actually did more to help his own case than Cameron anticipated. When Johnny pointed at him, about to launch into full on lecture mode about " _go to the damn doctor, Cameron_ ", he stopped rather abruptly, staring at his own accusing finger, and how it started to shake. At first, it was hardly noticeable, but the more Jonathan tried to hold his hand steady, the worse it got, and for a moment, he looked just as bewildered as the rest of the team.

"Ah, dammit…" Jonathan muttered, clenching his fist white knuckled against itself.

It was all the warning Cameron had before his brother's eyes rolled back in his head and he started to collapse forwards.

Thank god Gunter was paying just as close attention, because Cameron doubted he would've been able to catch Jonathan without landing on top of him. Fortunately, Gunter was fast when he needed to be, and he'd known exactly what the hand tremors signified.

Which was how they both wound up sharing a room at Lower Manhattan hospital.

The lights were down low, and Johnny was curled up on his bed, one arm wrapped around his head while the other splayed out to his side with the glucose IV stuck to it, too sick to complain about it or the handcuffs the hospital insisted he wore now that his tracking anklet was disabled.

And Cameron had been right about how little the hospital would do for broken ribs, especially when it was just one. All they did was push on already painful bruises, cluck their tongue, and agree that 'yep, that's broken' and tell him not to over exert himself.

Kay owed him twenty bucks, whenever she came back. She'd gotten stuck at the auction house, trying to fill in the owner and Deakins on what happened, the proof of the Mystery Woman caught on camera exactly as Jonathan had described her with the stolen diamond in her hand, and decidedly boring other FBI agent things.

At least Jordan had brought him an extra pack of cards for him to play with while he waited, something to keep his hands busy while he considered his argument that he be allowed to keep Johnny out of prison.

Which meant he needed intel.

"Hey, Johnny – you awake?"

There was an irritable groan, and Jonathan's arm tightened over his head. "Regrettably."

"Yeah, well, who's fault is it that you let your blood sugar crash like that? You haven't done that in _ages_."

Jonathan snorted, but didn't answer.

Wait.

"Why does the rest of the FBI team look at you like you're three seconds away from making a break for it?" Cameron asked. "I mean…you _didn't_ , did you?"

"No, Cam, I didn't make a run for it. Crossed my mind like a thousand times, but no. I did, however, knock out a guard at the Quest meetup, steal his gun, and almost shot the Mystery Woman as she left for the harbor, but your agent Daniels threatened to shoot me in the back if I did, so…" Jonathan half shrugged with his one arm.

"You didn't…"

Johnny moved his arm just enough he could look at Cameron. "Yep," he confirmed, making a slight popping sound on the 'p'.

" _Really_?"

Jonathan sighed, moving his arm back across his face. "Look, it wasn't like I wasn't thinking about you, okay? I just…she was getting away, and I'd just given her the final clue for the Lynx by accident, and she'd locked me in one of the room's at the asylum, and…"

Cameron flicked one of the cards at Jonathan, hitting him right across the arm with a _thwack_.

"Hey!"

"Do you seriously think I'm mad about what _you_ did? How can I blame you for that? I don't know that if I had a gun I _wouldn't_ have shot her. Except…you know, I don't know how hard it is to back track someone's criminal history when they're dead, but you get the idea. Kay didn't really hold that against you, did she? She must've known you're not that kind of person."

Because _Cameron_ knew. And he told her so, had told _everyone_ that Jonathan wasn't capable of murder. Sure, he had a bad temper, but it's not like he didn't have a reason for it, and just because someone is grouchy doesn't make them a murderer.

"I don't know they ever actually paid attention to my case, Cam. They seemed pretty convinced I'd all but beaten that other woman to death with my bare hands. I went to get myself a hot dog less than fifty feet away from them because I was starving and all I'd had for a year is prison food and they smelled too good to ignore, and they complained that I didn't care about the fact that you were missing because I wanted to _eat_."

 _What. The. Hell._ Cameron clenched his hands around the deck of cards so tight he felt them cut into his fingers.

"You're turning red, Cam. Breathe."

"They shouldn't have done that."

Jonathan shrugged again. "Forget about it. It bought me a couple more hours outside the Pen, so I can't really complain."

"You shouldn't have to rely on _passing out_ to keep you out of jail for an extra couple of hours!" Cameron protested. "Who'd they think you were, Homicidal Houdini? If you hadn't cracked that the clue about the Lynx, if you hadn't helped them figure out that the Woman crowdsourced my _abduction_ and _how_ , I would probably be dead, or _worse_ – still stuck with her and her Washout Goon Squad!"

"I shudder to think how that would be worse than dead," Johnny deadpanned.

It would've been worse, because it would mean that the Mystery Woman would still have Jonathan to hold over his head, and she was a little too quick to turn to murder to solve her problems. Prison bars would've been about as effective against her as they were against him and his brother. A formality.

As fate would have it, someone knocked on the door before Cameron had to explain himself.

"Hey," Kay said, smiling slightly. "How're you feeling?"

She looked at Cameron as she asked, but her eyes flicked momentarily towards Jonathan with his back to her.

"We need to talk," he said.

"Cam, don't," Jonathan warned. "It's fine."

And in that moment, it was _too much_ like their entire childhood, and Cameron finally understood the frustration Jonathan felt towards their dad.

No. He wasn't doing this again. He wasn't going to have someone else look at Johnny like all he was good for was puzzle solving and riddles, and tell him to go back to hiding behind the curtain when they were through with him.

"Hallway," Cam said, hopping off the bed with only a slight wince. " _Now_."

As soon as he shut the door behind them – not that it would do much to keep Johnny from hearing everything anyway – Cameron point black said, "He's not going back to jail."

"Cameron, that's…"

"Non-negotiable, Kay. His sentence was ridiculous even before you knew he wasn't lying about being set up. First time offender, clearly an accident? He should've had the minimum at three years. And without him, I wouldn't be here, you wouldn't have known about Devlins, and that's just today. He solved the picture for the next clue, he cracked a code not even the FBI could figure out – _or me_ – he saved my life, and he held up a bargain he didn't even make. There has to be some sort of a deal we can make, like…Frank Abagnale Jr. made."

Kay grimaced, like she knew already everything Cameron just laid out in black and white. "I came here to see how _both_ of you were doing. And to apologize to Jonathan. I tend to forget that people are humans and _I_ forget to eat all the time when I'm on a case, and I was too worried to be hungry and it didn't even occur to me that I wasn't letting him have a break. Mike can grab whatever he wants whenever he wants, and so can your team, and I felt terrible about it when they told me why he collapsed."

Well…that took a little bit of the anger away, but not all of it.

"That doesn't have the words 'of course he doesn't have to go back to prison' anywhere in it," he pointed out.

Kay pressed her lips into a thin line, looking just over his shoulder and through the blinds to where Jonathan remained hunched over on the bed. "Cameron, I don't have that kind of sway. I can put in a request for a motion, but other than that…he _has_ -"

"No Johnny, no me," Cameron said bluntly, folding his arms. "We had a deal, Kay. I help you solve your crimes, you help me prove my brother is innocent. And I've done it. More than once. _He's_ done it. I don't see the FBI contributing anything to this so far."

 _That_ seemed to upset her, and she visibly bristled, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him. "You are aware that I solved plenty of crimes without you, Cameron Black? Even if your brother didn't break the law, he broke the rules of his release. He knocked a man unconscious, he tried to shoot a woman in the back after stealing a gun. He thinks rules don't apply to him, and he's too much of a flight risk, even with the tracking anklet. He purposely goads other agents, he acts like he's smarter than everyone in the room, I'll gladly submit the paperwork to try and work something out, but Cameron, his utter contempt for the law, even in front of my boss, isn't helping him."

"Look, I'm not saying Johnny's perfect. Nobody is. But I'm telling you, you _can't_ send him back. Other inmates are starting to realize what he can do, and that he helps out the feds. Johnny can defend himself, but he's _alone_ in there. You just pointed out what he can be like. The guards don't even like him. And he's getting targeted in there. You can't just…" Cameron struggled for the right wording, because he _had_ to get Kay to understand this. "You can't do what Dad did."

Kay's frosty glare softened slightly, and he could see her shoulders relax fractionally.

"He and Johnny fought all the time. _All_ the time. Johnny was the brains behind the show and the really spectacular illusions, but he hated having to hide all the time just because of _one trick_. He hated being told he had to stay inside, or he had to hide his face, or that he had act like me even when we weren't on stage. Now people know about him, the gig is up, and he _still_ has to hide. He still has to take orders and keep his head down. I know he's a little…well, both of us are a _lot_ arrogant, but Kay, you and the FBI – _we_ can't do that to him, we can't ask for his help and then not return the favor just because he's a little rough around the edges. He's been in prison because of someone else for over a year – you didn't know him before, but _I_ did, and I can see him changing, and not for the better. Please, Kay. You _have_ to help him. _Us_."

Johnny was probably going to murder him later for telling a perfect stranger all of that, but Cameron knew how to play to a crowd, too. He remembered the way Kay looked when she saw their old show poster from when they were kids. How she reacted when he described their childhood and she called it lonely.

"Working with you is one thing, Cameron," Kay pointed out. "Working with him is a whole new ball game."

"Don't punish him for not being me," Cameron pleaded. "I know we look alike, but we're two different people. That shouldn't be used as an excuse to keep him in a cage."

Kay flinched slightly at that.

"Kay, don't you understand? You're the first person that isn't family that's ever gotten to meet _Johnny_ – _just_ Johnny. Not when he's trying to be me, or trying to impress someone, or in disguise. It was _just_ him for the first time outside of prison."

After a long few moments, Kay sighed. "What do you want, Cameron?"

"I _want_ you to love him as much as I do."

Kay's lips twitched, like something just occurred to her that she was trying not to laugh at. "My _god_. Jonathan said you were a good negotiator."

Cameron felt his heart jump. "Is that a yes? He can stay?"

"I still can't magically make a work release proposition, Cameron. I have to run it by Deakins and get it approved by a judge _and_ the FBI. It'll take time."

Cameron's heart sank.

"However," she said, no longer fighting the grin. "I can't move him if he's still requiring medical treatment. I'm not going to ask you what you're going to do, I don't want to know. I'll tell the hospital staff to put you guys on the bottom of their list to check off. Buy me…" she looked at her watch and he could see her calculating how long it would take her to get what she needed. "Twenty four hours. In Twenty four hours, I can at least get an injunction. The other papers will take longer, but I can work some magic, too."

Before she could stop him, Cameron threw his arms around hers and gave her a quick bear hug, even though it hurt like hell. " _Thank you_."

Kay shook her head, and turned to leave but stopped short. "And for the record? I _do_ like Jonathan."

* * *

Ta daaaaah. Anyway, what did you think? I had to fight for a little bit to make the argument between Kay and Cameron work without one of them being out of character, but I really wanted to have Cameron have to fight to keep his brother out of prison now that they finally had proof that the Mystery Woman exists on camera (And I really wanted to use the line 'I want you to love him as much as I do' because reasons). If that can be used as evidence that at least part of his story was true, it would be enough to reopen the case. And there is actually precedent for former criminals going into law enforcement as advisors and experts in their field, so I figure it's not out of the realm of possibilities. Anyway, read and review if you can, they keep me motivated!


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